Playing the Part
by Dawn1000
Summary: Famously, Arthur Tudor, Prince of Wales, died on April 2, 1502. Alan Ka went to sleep only to wake up in the body of the notorious Henry VIII's elder brother, bells ringing about his apparent survival. In a court where he's unpopular at best and seen as unfit to rule at worst, he must play the part of the Prince of Wales while trying to keep his newfound position- and his life.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors**_

_**Summary: Famously, Arthur Tudor, Prince of Wales, died on April 2, 1502. **_

_**Alan Ka went to sleep only to wake up in the body of the infamous Henry VIII's elder brother, bells ringing about his apparent survival. **_

_**In a court where he's unpopular at best and seen as unfit at worst, he must play the part of the Prince of Wales while trying to keep his newfound power- and his life.**_

* * *

The day that forever changed my life began perfectly normal. It was a Saturday morning and seeing as how I didn't get out of bed until twelve, I was scrolling through a page recommending good historical fiction shows to watch.

Being the massive history junky I was, I'd already chewed through _Rome, The Tudors, The Pillars of the Earth, Medici: Masters of Florence, Isabel, The Borgias, The White Queen, Vikings, Victoria, __Reign, etc._\- although the last one especially made me want to vomit at the sheer amount of inaccuracy it contained. Usually, I could turn the other cheek at shows playing fast and loose with the timelines but _Reign... _well, it was on a _whole _different level.

Sarah, my little shit of a sister, would always want to watch these shows with me. Then _I'd _be the one to get in trouble when my parents found out she'd watched MA tv! In hindsight, they should have laid off a little- my sister was thirteen; she could handle it.

In any case, I continued my fruitless endeavor for a little over half an hour before giving up. I would try later, maybe. Shutting off my tablet I threw an arm behind my head and plugged in my earbuds. I flipped through my phone's home screen until I found Spotify and turned on music by the band _Paradise Fears_. I grinned as one of my favorite songs, _Fought For Me, _filtered into my ears.

All I want is to remember the way that we used to be  
The whole universe was just you and me  
Every single time we threw our hearts in the air  
We brought it back down so beautifully  
All I wanna do is take it all back, but I can't rewind  
Get my head on straight and keep my heart in line  
I know I play it off like I just don't care  
But I still hear your voice in my head sometimes

Don't know what I became when you walked out  
You were too far away to see the fallout  
If you ever really wanted me  
You should've fought for me; you should've died for me  
Truth is, I love when it hurts  
I know it's fucked up, that's the way my heart works  
I only want when I'm not wanted; I only love after I've lost it

The song began to fade into the background as my eyelids grew heavy. The fog of drowsiness washed over my mind and I yawned. Pausing my music, I yanked out my earbuds and rolled onto my stomach. Resting my head against the pillow, I closed my eyes.

* * *

When I woke up, I didn't immediately know something was off. The buzzing of low voices filled the air and I strained to hear what my idiot siblings were saying about me.

"Highness... Tudor... Survive..."

That was what I caught. My brow furrowed but I pretended to stay asleep. These voices were deep and clearly masculine. One of them could be my brother, Alex, if he was faking, but for the other to belong to Sarah was impossible. And I didn't recognize this one. Also, what was this about the Tudors?

I opened my eyes and yelped at the sight of a heavy-set, bearded man leaning over me, his face inches away from mine.

My shout drew attention, and immediately two other men- the ones speaking earlier I assumed- rushed to my side.

"Your Highness!" they cried.

One of them- the man from earlier- placed a large hand on my forehead. I tried to flinch away, but it was of no avail; he was too fast.

"His fever has broken!" the man said. "Quick! Send word to the King and Queen! And deliver this most wonderous news to the Princess Catherine as well!"

My head spun. What the hell were these people going on about? Why did they address me as 'Your Highness'? More importantly, why did I feel so weak and ill? This had to be a really bizarre dream.

The men all clustered around me and asked me questions for a few minutes. I just stared at them, dazed. They frowned and pressed some more before the man with the thick beard barked at them to give me some space. They did so grudgingly.

At that moment, the doors to the room I was in burst open. An auburn haired girl who looked to be in her teens raced in. Her eyes widened at the sight of me and she smiled to her ears. She ran to my side, ignoring the men who bowed to her, and took my hand. Pressing a kiss against my knuckles, she spoke.

"Thank God for His mercy Arthur," the girl said. "He, in his infinite kindness, has spared you!"

I was getting more confused by the second, and this confusion quickly lead to anger. I felt like hell, strangers were calling me 'Arthur' and treating me like I was some kind of royalty, and I had no clue where my loved ones were.

I withdrew my hand from the girl's and felt a sting of guilt at the hurt look on her face. Pinching my arm, I paled when I actually felt pain. That was what did it for me.

"Where in the actual _fuck _am I and what have you done to me?"


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: I'm really touched by the support this story has gotten so far! Thanks so much!**_

* * *

At my outburst, there was only a stunned silence. The auburn haired girl who'd been holding my hand recoiled, her blue eyes wide with horror. Then she crossed herself. The men around me stared.

"Your Highness?" the bearded one asked.

I glared at him.

"Why do you keep calling me that?!"

The girl inhaled sharply. My gaze snapped to her. She was dressed in a flowing blue and white dress. The blue part acted as a sort of long robe, covering the white part slightly. Its sleeves were long, the ends ridiculously wide, pooling out to envelop her hands. At the front of the dress- no, the gown- there was laced up cloth, the string falling to waist level.

I frowned, and my headache worsened.

This was hardly clothing suited for the twenty-first century. How was wherever I was being held _this _old fashioned?

The auburn haired girl stepped closer to me again, her face pale. She touched my hand and I flinched back with a snarl. She stopped her advancement but stared straight into my eyes.

"Do you know who I am?" she questioned.

I scowled.

"How would I? I don't even know _where_ I am_!"_

The men around us sprung into action. They were on me in a split second. One of them, a stout blond man, tried to herd the auburn haired girl out of the room. She struggled against him.

"Princess Catherine!" he protested, "It will not do for you to see the Prince in such a state!"

"I will stay, Doctor Bar," Catherine said firmly.

"But-"

"That was not a request."

Despite my rage and frustration, I felt a spark of respect for the girl. To just shut down a grown-ass man like that took some s_erious _balls! Then something else caught my attention.

Bile crept up my throat.

"What the hell!" I shouted. "Why did you call me a prince and her a princess?!"

Doctor Bar's head swung in my direction. Catherine covered her mouth with a hand. She made an odd sound- something between a cry and a sob. She fell made her way back to my bedside and fell to her knees, grasping my hand again.

Part of me wanted to snatch the limb back from this girl who seemed to be one of my captors. But something made me pause. Maybe it was the devastated look on her face, or the fact that she seemed just as upset as I. Anyhow, I got the feeling Catherine was genuinely c_oncerned _for me.

"You don't know who _I _am, but do you know who _you _are?"

I opened my mouth to tell her I was Alan Ka, history junky, KotOR pro, and irredeemable nerd, but at the last moment I froze. These people had all addressed me as either 'Arthur', 'Your Highness', or 'the Prince'.

I got the feeling that whoever they thought I was, Alan Ka wasn't going to cut it.

So instead of giving up who I was, I looked down into my lap and ducked my head.

"No. I don't," I whispered.

Catherine's grip on my hand tightened. My gaze shifted back up at her.

Her mouth was drawn into a thin line. Her face had lost all its color and her eyebrows were knit tightly together. Her expression was a mix of dread and terror.

Catherine touched my face with her other hand, tracing the curve of my jaw. The men around us- the doctors from what I'd gathered- had moved to a respectful distance away from us. From the looks on their faces, I guessed they wereclose enough by to hear me.

"Do the names Henry and Elizabeth mean anything to you?" Catherine pushed.

"I... no."

This time, I didn't have to lie. I knew no one by those names.

"Mary? Margaret? Edmund? Edward?"

Her tone grew more hysterical with each shake of my head.

"Should those names mean anything?"

I was acting, partly, but I was also genuinely curious. If these people were connected to me, could I convince them to se me free?

Catherine crossed herself again. I got the feeling she did that a lot.

She brushed a strand of hair out of my face and stood abruptly.

"Doctor Lane," she commanded, "Pen a letter to Their Graces the King and Queen. Alert them that-" her voice broke. "Alert them that my lord husband has lost his memory."

"_Husband?!" _

I shrieked like a little girl.

Catherine spared me a quick glance. Alarm, worry, and fear were just a few things I saw flash in her eyes.

Doctor Lane- the bearded man- nodded and set to work. His colleagues huddled together in a corner of the room and spoke in hushed voices. Occasionally, they would send furtive looks my way.

As for me, well, I just sat there, taking it all in.

These people didn't think they'd kidnapped me. They thought I was some kind of prince, and Catherine was under the impression we were married.

Were they all doped up on ecstasy or something?

A wave of nausea swept over me and I clutched Catherine's hand for support. She looked at me, apprehensive, and I offered her a weak smile.

"Do you think you could get me a mirror?" I asked. "I feel terrible and want to see how bad a shape I'm in."

She nodded. Leaving my side, she spoke hurriedly to someone who was lingering outside the door.

A few minutes later, that same girl returned.

Catherine took the hand mirror from her and twirled it for a moment. Then she passed it on to me.

I took it, giving my thanks, and raised it up to my face.

I expected to see light brown hair with a tanned face covered in freckles, accompanied by a small nose and a wide mouth. Instead, I was confronted with a pale face, wavy blond hair falling to my shoulders, and high, aristocratic cheekbones, as well as full lips.

And just like that, the world I knew- _my _world- crumbled around me.


	3. Chapter 3

As I stared at my face in the mirror, I was oblivious to anything else going on around me. I was transfixed by my appearance, and dread formed in the pit of my stomach.

I had thought I'd been kidnapped before but this wasn't the case. I knew that now. Somehow, I'd been transferred to another boy's body and instead of being eighteen, I was fifteen or sixteen by the looks of it. And not just another body, but a royal one.

These people- the doctors and my supposed wife- all thought I was someone called Arthur.

And looking at myself now, I could no longer deny that I wasn't Alan Ka.

How in the hell was this even possible! How had I taken over another body?

The mirror began to slip from my grasp and I felt the fleeting touch of fingers skim my hand. I tore my gaze away from the object to see Catherine staring at me, concerned.

It was difficult to believe this girl was my wife. We were insanely young to be married after all. At least by twenty-first century standards.

_Wait._

"Catherine," I began, "What year is it?"

"It's 1502," was her quick response.

My heart dropped to my stomach.

It wasn't possible! I couldn't have been transported five hundred years into the past!

_But you shouldn't have been able to take over another body either._

My head spun.

"The men from earlier had accents. Come to think of it, so do you. Where are we?"

"We're in England."

_England... Sixteenth century... Prince... Arthur... Catherine... Fever._

My mind raced to try to put all the pieces together.

Eventually, I did.

"No," I rasped. "No! It isn't possible!"

At my raised voice, Catherine flinched back.

I gripped the sheets covering me so tightly my knuckles turned white. It couldn't be possible! I was Alan Ka, a smartass kid from New York. I couldn't have somehow transported five centuries back and stolen the body of the Prince of Wales!

I lunged forward, gripping Catherine's arm.

"What's today!" I demanded.

"April 2!" she cried. "Arthur! Arthur let go! You're hurting me!"

The doctors were rushing towards us now.

I dropped her arm as if it burned. She looked at me, an expression of fear on her face.

"I'm sorry!" I said. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so-"

Doctor Lane guided Catherine out of the room while Doctor Bar and his two colleagues eyed me warily. I stared at Catherine's retreating back and felt guilt twist up in my chest.

I hadn't meant to hurt her!

Doctor Bar walked towards me and offered me a cup.

I took it gratefully but started coughing as soon as I had a gulp.

This wasn't water! It was sugary, sickeningly sweet, and a deep purple color.

Wine, it seemed.

Doctor Bar's eyes widened with alarm. He pounded at my back as my shoulders heaved. I muttered my thanks.

He stood back up and gave me a quick nod before telling me I should rest. Food would be brought to me in a hour's time along with a washing basin for my hands.

"What about Catherine?" I probed. "Will she be alright?"

"Her Highness will be fine," he replied. "Although your roughness cane as a surprise; Your Highness has always been nothing but gentle with her. Even with your current... state, I would have expected you to keep that habit."

Doctor Bar's parting words only made me feel worse.

I sank my head back down onto my pillow and stared up at the sealing.

Now that there was only me in this large room, I had time to think.

Today was April 2, 1502. Arthur Tudor's death date. I could only hope this mean the Prince of Wales had died before I'd gotten here. At least that would mean I was only an imposter and not also a murder.

_Nice going, Alan! _I thought bitterly. _You not only managed to possibly kill an innocent boy, but also hurt his wife in the span of half an hour! You should get a fucking award!_

I suddenly felt drained. The emotional toll of learning I was a body stealer, married to a young Catherine of Aragon, had not in been kidnapped, and was the elder brother of Henry VIII- or Henry, Duke of York in this case- weighed down on me heavily.

In a matter of minutes, I succumbed to sleep.

* * *

"Your Highness?"

I woke to the sound of a soft voice calling out to me. Blinking my eyes open, I sat up.

A girl in her late teens, dressed in a brown cotton dress, was peering down at me. In her hands, she held a tray of food.

As I caught the smell, my mouth watered.

I took the tray from her, giving a few words of thanks, and she looked surprised.

_Oh, right. _

I guessed royalty didn't typically even look at servants- much less talk to them. It made sense for her to be caught off guard.

The serving girl curtsied deeply to me and left the room as I began to dig into my meal.

In short, it was delicious.

On my plate was a roasted bird (duck, probably), along with a long bit of buttered bread, and apple, and carrot sticks.

I'd always been a picky eater, but in this instance, when I was actually starving, there was nothing greater in the entire world.

* * *

After I finished eating I really thought about things.

The momentary euphoria my food and rest had brought was gone now, and as I rested my cheek against my hand, a wave of hopelessness crashed over me. Horrible at school I may be, but I knew my history. I knew Arthur was supposed to die today, leaving the throne for his little brother. I also knew his father's reign was stabilized substantially by his birth, but the Prince of Wales himself wasn't popular in Henry VII's court.

I didn't know if there was a way for me to get back home, or if I'd ever see my family again.

What I w_as _sure of was that I was stuck in the body of a disliked political figure who had significant power. In the Middle Ages. In England. Where there had literally been a massive civil war not even twenty years earlier where the crown of England had switched hands- or heads if you wanted to be gruesome- _seven__ times in a thirty year span. _

As of now, there were several Yorkists in England, and quite a few of them didn't like me.

Somehow, I'd managed to stumble my way into a minefield were any misstep would get my damn head blown off.

_Fuck._


End file.
